Colonel Argall Ashendyne looked out from his pillow. "Wasn't the Canal good enough? Who wants their Railroad--damn them! And after the Railroad there'll be something else.... Public Schools, too!... This country's getting too damnably democratic!" His eyes closed, his face seemed to sink together. Dr. Bude came from the hearth and, bending over, laid his finger upon the pulse. The Colonel again opened his eyes. They were fastened now on Hagar, standing behind Miss Serena. "Well, Gipsy!" he said with cheerfulness, "It's a pretty comfortable boat, eh? We'll make the voyage before we know it." His hands touched the bed. "Steamer chairs! I don't think I was ever in one before. Lean back and see the wide ocean stretch before you! The wide ocean ... the wide ocean ... "'Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!' "That's Byron, you know, Gipsy.... The wide ocean...." His eyes glazed. He sank back. Dr. Bude touched the wrist again; then, straightening himself, turned and spoke to Old Miss. CHAPTER XXXIV BRITTANY "She hasn't had a holiday for nearly four years," said Molly. "I'm glad she's gone for this summer. She wouldn't take Thomasine--she said she wanted to be all, all alone, just for three months. Then she would come back to work." "Brittany--" "Yes. A little place on the coast that she knew. She said she wanted the sea. I thought perhaps that she had written to you--" "Not since May," said John Fay. "There was a proposed extension of a piece of work of mine in the West. I was called out there to see about it, and I had to go. I was kept for weeks. I tried to get back, but I couldn't--I was in honour bound. Then when I came her boat had sailed. And now I--" He measured the table with his fingers. "Do you think she would hate me if I turned up in that place in Brittany?" Molly considered it. "She's a reasonable being. Brittany isn't for the benefit of just one person." "Ah, but you see I should want to talk to her." Molly pondered that, too. "Well, I should try, I think. If she doesn't want to talk she will tell you so...." Hagar's village was a small village, a grey patch of time-worn houses, set like a lichen against a cliff with a heath above. Before it ran a great and far stretch of brown sands. There was a tiny harbour where the fishing-boats came in, and all beyond the thundering sea. The place boasted a small inn, but she did not stay there. The widow of the curé had to let a clean large room, overlooking a windy garden, and the widow and her one servant set a table with simple, well-cooked fare. Hagar stayed here, though most of the time, indeed, she stayed out upon the brown, shell-strewn, far-stretching sands.